The Eight Million Gods
by jcgonzo
Summary: A storm of warfare and strife has passed, and a world slowly knits together a peace amongst the wreckages and lingering resentments. A man scarred by the past, and a girl whose future was denied, makes their way through Kanto.


_The future, amidst tragedy and triumph..._

The wind howled and the hail slashed like knives across the ancient stone pillars. Beasts of gargantuan proportions, of such dizzying vastness that it beggared belief that the world itself was not split in twain beneath their footsteps, roared with the voices of a thousand storms. The deafening crackle of lightning was mute in comparison – the chiming of bells before the cacophony of war.

He grinned. Dark cloth billowing as the storm and the thunder raged above his bound and upheld fist. Maddened eyes leering like a wildfire, the crackling of lightning casting sharp shadows around the lean hunger of his visage.

"Beautiful weather today!" he called out. "Couldn't ask for a better setting than this, my dear friend! The sun to our left! The moon to our right! And the end of the world raging above us! Truly, we are blessed to be alive in this moment! Truly, this is a day of destiny!"

The pale figure in stained and dirty white, breathing hard and ragged in contrast to his unyielding confidence, met him eye to eye. Dull. Flat. Not lifeless, but... empty? Or would it better to call it unfathomable – an endless depth more felt than seen.

It was as if the impossibilities before him were barely acknowledged – that the godlike titans were barely noticeable from his vantage point, though they loomed in such a way that all of existence seemed to bend beneath and around them.

He stood up, catching his breathe. A hand wreathed in white scars clawing at the sky.

They spoke as one, exultant and transcendent.

"By my will-"

"For the gods-"

""I choose thee-""

**The Eight Million Gods**

Chapter One: Exec:_Phantom_Phobia

_The present, r_e_covering from a storm..._

The ship lurched.

It didn't suddenly heave to the right because of an attack or sabotage or anything momentous. The Sinnoh to Kanto cruise has been uneventful but for one small matter: a storm that had diverted off its predicted course just enough to bump the cruise liner with the tail end of its gale. Waves surged and crashed against the sides of the ship, causing it to lurch unpleasantly as it sped on south.

A Piplup chirped worriedly as her trainer groaned under the duress of seasickness and exhaustion. Lunch didn't stay down very well today. Not today nor yesterday. Staying cooped up in her cabin hasn't exactly improved matters much either, as the air conditioning struggled against the muggy late August weather.

This wasn't quite how she expected to start her adventures as a trainer. Not just the seasickness... but being supervised by her _mom_.

"Bea, I brought you some orange juice!" The cabin door swung open, and the sound of excited chatter, as well as the faint din of trainer battles on the upper decks, leaked through the halls. "Oh, dear. Still not feeling well, dear?"

"Mmphl..."

"Aww, poor dear. You should really go outside – the weather's cleared up!"

"Dun wanna."

The middle-aged woman, hair beginning to streak gray amidst the black, patted her daughter on the head kindly. "Bea, dear, it's been a while since you've taken Suijin on a walk."

"...mm..."

"There are a lot of trainers onboard that you can talk to. Some of them are even your age!"

"...mmm..."

"...I heard there's going to be a small tournament on the upper deck..."

"Suijin, let's go for a walk!" said the girl suddenly, leaping out of bed.

Crash.

"...dear, you should really take it easy..."

Her Piplup chirped as she tried to help her trainer onto her feet. The little blue bird, with a head about as large as its torso, was only a couple of feet tall, or roughly the size and shape of a penguin, and struggled under her trainer's weight.

"Hah... thank you, Su," murmured the girl as she steadied herself, straightening her purple scarf. "Wow, headrush. I'm alright. I'm alright! Let's go, Suijin – training time!"

"That girl..." Her mother sighed, then startled as her cellphone rang. "Oh, dear. Oh, yes, Professor- no, I'm afraid not. They've both been seasick. Yes, I'll make sure – oh, that's good to hear. I'll let her know."

* * *

The deck of the cruise liner was a festival of activity. The center pool abroad the ship was temporarily drained for the event, revealing two battle arenas marked out in red and white tiles, with benches shoved around them as a makeshift arena.

The tiles glistened under the salt sprays and bright sun of the late summer afternoon. The storm had past; the air was clear. And a fight was already going on.

Exhibition matches. Eight-badge ranking trainers enticed by the cruise's offers for temporary employment and all the matches they could practice with before they make their way to the League. A Sinnoh Skarmory, the metallic blades of its wings glaring bright against the afternoon sun, screeched as it plummeted down upon the enemy Snorlax, the great mass of flesh roaring angrily as the shockwave from the bird's wings hit home.

The arena shuddered – shock absorbers all around the pool dampening the effect to the ship, but even from the far peripheries of the cruise liner, the monstrous force of the fight could be felt.

The Snorlax groaned, and collapsed onto its knee.

"Aaand the victor is Unova trainer Richie Carmichael! His Skarmory's 'Steel Wing' was just too much to bear," declared the announcer. "And that concludes today's thrilling lineup of exhibition matches! Be sure to come back tomorrow for more. Now, for those interested in signing up for the tournament, we will begin the one-badge rankings in an hour."

"Ehh?" Bea ran up to the announcer. "Wait, I thought there was a no-badge flight?"

The announcer looked down from his podium. "Huh? You got a kid sister with a starter or something?"

"No- well, I-" stammered Beatrice, slightly flushed from embarrassment.

"Eh, well, the zero-badge flight was short two signups of the minimum," said the announcer, shrugging. "If you can find somebody other than your sister, I can push it to after the 7-badge flight, but..."

"That's... that's alrigh-"

"Hey. Zero-badge flight. What gives?" said a new voice behind her. The announcer furrowed his brow in annoyance. "I was told there'd be one." Beatrice turned – a man about a head taller than herself, his face heavily scarred and partially obscured by a beat-up looking fedora, wearing a white greatcoat despite the weather, was giving the announcer an impatient look.

"Like I was telling the girl, we're two entries short," shot back the announcer. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"The girl hasn't signed up?"

"Er-"

"And neither have I. Two entries. When's the match?"

"Hey, buddy. It's the _zero-flight_ matchups. Aren't you a bit too old?" protested the announcer angrily. "It's nothing but a bunch of ten to twelve year old rookie trainers!"

"And I'm a rookie too. Check my ID," said the man irritably, tossing a card onto the podium. "Minted last week. Same as, if the news is correct, a few thousand other twelve to sixteen year olds who lost their opportunity when the war broke out. Or did you forget that they only dropped the age restriction laws in Sinnoh this year, and the wait list is by seniority?"

The announcer glowered, then snatched the card up, looking it over skeptically. "...fine, fine. ...seriously? You _just_ got registered?"

"Childhood accident," said the trainer glibly.

"I'll say. Fine, I'll log you in, Mr. Calcite. You too, kid? Kid."

"Uh? Ah – yes!" said Beatrice in surprise. "Um, right... card... here."

"Right. Logging you both in. Excuse me, ahem." He flipped his mic back on. "Ladies and gentlemen! And especially the kids abroad. I am happy to announce some last-minute changes to the schedule! We have some last-minute additions to the cruise tournament, and now have enough participants for the rookie-level flight! It will take place this evening, after the scheduled seven-rank division."

"Ah... hey!" said Beatrice as the white-dressed man walked off satisfied. "Um, I wanted to thank you!"

"Eh?" The man glanced back, baggy eyes just short of glaring down at her. "What for?"

"This... this is going to be my first battle as a trainer, so..." said Beatrice, blushing in embarrassment.

"Oh, huh. Me too." The man shrugged. "Not my first fight, though. Now, excuse me, but I have an appointment with a bottle of anti-motion sickness medication. I'll be seeing you, Miss Yew."

Bea blinked and looked down at her Piplup as the man disappeared into the elevator. "...did I ever give my name?"

* * *

"You look ridiculous in that coat."

"Fuck you."

Evening approached, the sweltering heat dying to the gentle, cool breeze of the ocean. The sound of battle still clamored, even through the windows of the dining hall, as Calcite cut his way through a pork chop. A black, smooth slab, roughly the size of his hand and not unlike a common mass-market Pokedex, was propped up on a small stand before him. The words "Sound Only" was displayed in white.

"No, seriously. It's summer. You're too self-conscious, Karbon. Chicks dig-"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Alright, alright. I'll get serious. How's training?"

"Only legal and sanctioned matches are during the tournament or unless specifically authorized. This is a Sinnoh-flagged cruise, remember?"

"Oh, damn. That pushes the schedule back a bit, then. I had projected you going straight to Pewter City, but it looks like you'll have to do a training detour."

"No need. Just give me more money for restoratives, and I'll train along the way."

"Hahaha, no. We stretched the budget a bit for the cruise in the first place. Speaking of which, have you had a chance to get in contact with the Yews?"

"Ran into the daughter. Spent the rest of the day sleeping off the meds. Talked to the professor before I contacted you. I still don't see why it's necessary to bodyguard them – security on the ship's pretty tight."

"Ah, yeah, I heard from Dahlia earlier. Two fights broken up almost before they could start. Doesn't matter – I wasn't worried about it during the cruise itself. Kanto, however, is plagued with organized crime." Karbon grunted noncommittally. The voice on the other end sighed. "As friendly as always. Anyhow, let's go over the itinerary again."

"Stop at Cinnabar, grab a ferry over to Pallet Town, trek on over to Pewter. Yeah, yeah. We done here?"

"Sure, sure. The tournament, right? One last thing – how's the Pokedex working?"

"You tell me – you're downloading the data right now, aren't you? But the new model's pretty responsive."

"Mm, good. Try not to make the kids cry."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Beatrice brushed frantically at her hair, wincing as the comb caught on tangles of black and stylistic streaks of purple here and there. "Moomm, where'd you put the antidote sprays?"

"Right pocket of your bag, dear," called out the professor from the bedroom. "Do you have everything you need? I can hurry down to the duty-free if you need any more potions. How about make-up?"

"It's..." Bea blanched. "It's just a rookie tourney, mom. It's not a proper debut; I don't need to look my best."

"Aw, dear." The restroom door opened and her mom stepped in. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long to start, but..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's not anybody's fault, Mom." Bea grimaced. Seventeen. Only a year older than a lot of people just starting out, but still very much a late-bloomer as a trainer – a profession that especially rewarded those that started young, given the role empathy played in its successes. "It's not like the war's your fault or anything."

"Yes, yes. I'm just glad that Sinnoh's licensing treaty with Kanto was still valid, and that their wait list was shorter. Though I wish you didn't need to start so far from home..."

Beatrice smiled and gave her mother a quick hug. "I'll be alright! Just watch – I'll come back as League Champion!"

Her mom laughed and helped her with the hair clips. "I'll be happy no matter how far you go, dear, just so long as you come back safe and sound-"

A knock on the door interrupted them. "Package for Dahlia Yew?" called out a voice.

"Oh, that must be the dracomail," said the professor. "Don't worry about me, dear – go get them!"

A small, sharp click as a pokeball attached to the magnets on the loose-fitting belt over Bea's dress. "Alright, Suijin! Let's go!"

* * *

The Aerodactyl. Truth to be told, its original form probably wasn't comprised partially of silicates – it might've been a flying and "normal" variant, possibly even a Dragon subtype, instead of the genetically tweaked form it takes in modern times. Compromises were needed during its revival – genetics weren't so much blueprints, as they were once thought, but more akin to raw data dumps, with the key to read them only barely understood. The end result, plus... complications... given the innately mysterious nature of the Pokemon species, gave rise to the predator now hotly sought after by those rich enough, well-connected enough, or just plain lucky enough to access one.

In some ways, it was probably more dangerous now than it was long, long ago. Its toughness as a flier was very nearly unparalleled.

In others, not so much. It faces opposition now – opposition aided by human cunning.

"Fire spin can't touch it, Flare Blitz barely singed it, and the Infernape's looking cornered!" said the announcer frantically. "It might've taken a beating from the two prior offenders, but the Aerodactyl is flying high and proud! Hear it roar, folks!"

"Heh. Game over," said its trainer. "Sky drop!"

"Yeah... I don't think so."

A strange, muffled thud. A sudden silence from the crowd.

"...it- it's down! The Aerodactyl's fainted! Infernape is the last one standing!"

The chimpanzee lookalike, its head a wreath of bright flames, screeched proudly over the sudden cheer of the crowd, its opponent dazed and beaten beneath its feet.

"What mastery! What speed! A last-second Thunderpunch counter before the Aerodactyl's talons could close upon it! Folks, we have a winner! Maxwell Alto is the SS Hathaway's fifteenth seven-badge champion!"

"Heh. Looks like that technical machine's mine," said the Infernape's trainer, black shirt billowing as he jumped down from the safety cage, hand ruffling through the Infernape's fiery "hair" harmlessly. "Good job, Wukong."

"Gah, dammit!" said the other trainer, running a hand through his thick, wildly spiking hair in frustration as a red light beamed from his pokeball to the Aerodactyl, causing it to shrink and dissipate. "There goes another five hundred bucks. I knew I should've had Stonefang keep her distance!"

"Heh. Maybe next time, Rudy," said the black-shirted trainer, a hand in a jean pocket as he retracted his Infernape. "You'll have another shot at the League."

"Yeah, just you wait, Max. Next time!"

The crowd began to thin as the sky dimmed to orange. Spotlights around the arena flickered on as the youngest set of the day, and their families, were left by the parting crowds.

They weren't all that young. The average age was about fourteen, and were mostly dressed in Sinnoh fashion. The announcer deliberately looked away from Karbon, who was sitting near the back of the bleachers with a faint grin.

"A-ahem. We'll soon be starting the Rookie matchups. First up is Beatrice Yew versus Karbon Calcite. On deck is May Smith and Jasper Steel. As a reminder, it's one-ball only, with a capability level maximum of eight, as per Kanto League guidelines. If you haven't registered your Pokemon yet, please insert its ball into this public 'Dex's slot." He motioned at the two contestants. "Trainers please meet at the center of the arena!"

"'Karbon,' huh?" mused Beatrice as she walked up. "Hey, your name's kind of familiar..."

"Eh, 's a traditional Hoenn name," said Karbon, shrugging. "Especially amongst the old miner clans. I think I'm a... thrice-removed cousin of the current top Hoenn Coordinator? Never met the guy, of course."

"So how do you know me, then?" asked Beatrice intently. "You called me 'Miss Yew' last time. ...wait. Don't tell me-"

Karbon gave her a flat look. "Would it help if my face was half-covered in bandages, Bea?"

"Kay!" exclaimed Beatrice. "Kay! I haven't seen you in four years! You got out of the hospital?"

"Yes, and now I'm matched against you in a tournament fight. You realize they're staring at us, right?"

"And you're still rude," complained Bea. "But why didn't you tell me... oh, never mind. I'll wrest it out of you after I beat you."

Karbon raised an eyebrow at her declaration. "...is that a fact?" He paced backwards, his eyes flatly watching her as the distance between them increased. "You realize I have the advantage, right?"

"How so?" asked Beatrice, suddenly nervous at the odd body language from her opponent. "...wait, what Pokemon did you..."

"That's the advantage. You don't know," intoned Karbon deliberately. "In fact, you were so busy questioning me, you didn't even notice when I summoned it."

Beatrice looked frantically around. Sand dunes and more, littered obstacles from the earlier seven-badge fight. "S-suijin!" A flash, and her Piplup blinked in the sudden stadium lights. "Watch out, he had first move-"

"Go!" suddenly snapped Karbon, jumping out of the way. Bea's eyes widened in surprise as a blur rocketed right at-

An explosion.

Darkness.

* * *

"Goddammit, what happened to my ship, and who do I beat the shit out of!" roared the captain as the bridge crew frantically dialed instruments and tapped keys.

"Sir, the damage's coming from the passenger cabins-"

"WHAT?"

"We-we've sent a security team down! They're-"

"Probably dead by now," snickered a voice, right next to the captain's ear.

The bridge froze, literally. Tendrils of ice, like manacles, locked the staff to their chairs, while a blur of black flitted between them, their expressions suddenly locked up in a rictus of paralysis.

"Who..." hoarsely gasped the captain, struggling vainly to turn and look at his assailant. "You... bitch..."

"Such a coarse tongue in a professional," chided the voice. "Well, no matter. You see those kids on the deck, captain? Give me the ship's access codes, or I butcher them. Starting with the younger ones."

"Fff... fuck you!"

"Oh dear. I don't think you're taking me seriously. Well, that's easily rectified. Tusk One? You know your orders."

The crackle of a radio.

The captain's eyes widened in desperation as muted screaming erupted below.

* * *

"What's happened?" cried out Beatrice desperately. The sudden loss of the spotlights had wrecked her vision – blurred, shadowy shapes, knee-high, had popped seemingly out of nowhere, and people were screaming in fright around her. She stumbled wildly, then stiffened as her back met resistance.

"We're being attacked," said Karbon's gruff, terse voice. "Some of the passengers were responsible – can't pinpoint which one. Tell your Piplup to dive overboard."

"But why-"

"I don't know!" he snapped as he dragged her away from the arena. "But if you have a Pokemon out, you're painting yourself as a target! Two of the younger kids got dragged away!"

"What? I mean-" Bea tried not to babble madly. The excited tension of the match had mutated suddenly into bowel-twisting panic, and trying to stay atop of the chaos was proving all but impossible. "Wait, what about your-"

"Shaddup," Karbon hissed. "And order the penguin already."

"S-Suijin, go!" she cried desperately. "Stay near the ship! I'll- I'll come back!"

"Bea! Beatrice!" yelled a voice above the din. "Dear, where are you-"

Beatrice winced as Karbon yanked her in a new direction. "Professor Yew," said Karbon. "I need you to follow my instructions to the letter, do you understand?"

"Kay! Yes, of course. Move with the crowd?"

"Yes. The data?"

"With me. Bea, dear! Are you alright? Hold onto my hand," said Dahlia as they moved with the panicking mob.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Mom, Kay said that they took two kids-" Beatrice paused as a dark expression passed her mother's face. "It's... it's true?"

"I'm sorry, dear. I was requested by the project lead to transport something to a Kanto colleague in Pallet, but..."

"Wrong causality," said Karbon as he led them toward the lower decks. "We weren't the only transporters. The data's valuable, but nothing that the Rockets haven't already gotten their hands on before, and certainly not worth something so high-profile. You need to stick your head out of the lab more often, Professor."

"Hey, don't talk to my mom like that!" protested Beatrice.

"It's alright, dear. Mr. Calcite's rebuke is accurate. What have you discerned, then, Karbon?"

"Turf war, of a sort," muttered Karbon as a staff member directed them toward the lifeboats. "Security wasn't tight because of a bunch of Hoenn and Sinnoh nationalists. Security's tight because _he's_ abroad."

"Who?" asked Dahlia intently.

Karbon's eyes gleamed. Beatrice yelped as another explosion shook the ship, the din increasing in spades. Men and women were marching through both sides of the deck now, their shirts and jackets torn to reveal the black cloth underneath, a blood-like red R stamped in the middle.

"Giovanni."

* * *

The Dragon Suite was the privilege of the wealthy and influential. A spacious luxury room, with every necessity provided for. It allowed the high-profile executive to enjoy a relaxed oceanic journey without the need to mingle with the commonfolk.

For an ex-criminal, the vast expanses of water all around would theoretically make it the safest place in the world, minus the occasional docking. He was still safe, in a way.

"Efficient," he said simply as the front doors of the suite hissed open. Access privilege to this room was limited to a select few, especially on this trip – the captain, the security team, and himself. "And disciplined. You've secured hostages too, I take it."

"It'll be as if we were never here," said the low, haughty voice that had tormented the captain. She stepped through – the strut of a habitual disciplinarian. Black boots and gloves, a simple black dress, and the red R pinned to her similarly dark beret. She saluted swiftly. "Minus, of course, the example cases we left in plain sight."

"It's a pity, then, that you wasted such coordination on an unimportant endeavor," sighed Giovanni.

"We need you, milord."

Giovanni laughed. "'Milord,' is it? Let a retired old man stay retired, Shizuna."

"You are the charisma of the Rockets," she pressed. "Without you, we're five fractious gangs with no purpose. With you, the entirety of the world is not outside our grasp! Will you turn your back on an entire lifetime of effort, sir?"

Giovanni finally turned around to face her, a sly grin across his weathered face. "You look so much like your mother, Shizuna. Though I'm uncertain how proud she would be of hostage-taking."

"She, too, was of the Nin," said Shizuna dismissively. "Whatever is necessary to fulfill our objective is right and just."

"I thought that once too," murmured Giovanni. "Alas, you underestimate my capabilities. Even at my height of power, the Rockets lacked such... militancy. This is your creation, _Koga_."

"No," she said, stiffening in stubbornness. "These men and women have waited years, milord. For _you_. They follow me, in _your_ name. A thousand bloodstained tusks, still bared against a world that dared try to exploit us! That dared encroach upon _your_ domain! Will you reject such loyalty?"

Giovanni drew silent, his expression hidden by the setting sun behind him, gray hairs illuminated in the coming twilight.

Sharp eyes impassively judging.

"Sir!"

* * *

Wrists bound and tossed into the main dining hall, along with what appeared to be half the ship. Those that had Pokeballs had them confiscated. Those that resisted... Those that...

There was a corner of the hall that nobody approached.

They were jammed in the opposite corner. Beatrice tried not to look behind her.

Karbon was leaning against the wall, coatless. They had pulled it off of him, and beaten him when he made the slightest resistance. The hat had gone overboard. He was wearing a dark brown, short-sleeved shirt underneath. His arms were bandaged heavily, even up to his fingers.

"You never told me what happened to you, huh?" murmured Beatrice miserably. "How'd you get so injured five years ago?"

"Beatrice, dear, it isn't nice to pry..." said her mother quietly.

"Isn't it okay? We've known each other for so longer," she muttered. "Well, maybe not the last few years, but..."

Karbon grunted. "Didn't you hear me tell that announcer? Childhood accident."

"Oh, sure, that tells me everything," said Beatrice sarcastically. "Why are you always so-"

"There." Karbon winced as he brought his hands out from behind him. "Damn, that hurt. Pretty strong zip-ties. Professor, do you still have it?"

Dahlia nodded. "Wearing it as a necklace."

"Mom?" asked Beatrice incredulously. "What are you two doing?"

Karbon grunted again as a small snap came from behind the professor's head. He pulled out a small, pink gem, tied to a string. "This... is my starting Pokemon. From the Sinnoh Research Institute labs."

"That... bauble?"

"A fearstone from a Misdreavus. Little known fact – Misdreavuses have nearly identical physiologies with Gastlies. Notably, both are capable of limited 'phasing,'" said Karbon as he tapped the stone, causing it to glow lightly. "The main difference is their specialization of appetite – both are omnivorous, but the Misdreavus requires emotional energy as a metabolic 'starter.'"

Beatrice slumped, a sudden fatigue washing over her.

"Sorry about that," said Karbon distractedly. "Phoebe is a... well, phobovore. She eats fears. And everybody here is sick with it. Well, girl?"

Beatrice tried to murmur something. A gaseous light had appeared before her, but fatigue soon engulfed her whole.

* * *

Shizuna's expression was unreadable as the door closed behind her, Giovanni turned away towards the sunset.

"Madam," said a Rocket grunt, saluting smartly. "We've apprehended and unarmed everybody. The Cinnabar authorities are approaching rapidly as well."

"Good, we're on schedule," said the administrator. "Prepare the fliers and choose an equal number of hostages. I don't care what you do with the rest of them."

"Yes, madam." The Rocket stopped in half-salute as Shizuna held up a palm. "Madam?"

"In your pocket." She motioned down.

"Oh, yes, madam. I took it from one of the passengers." The grunt handed it over to her.

Shizuna silently pressed a button, her eyes narrowing unpleasantly. "...a Pokedex. Alert the men."

"Er, yes, certainly," said the bemused grunt. "But... why?"

Shizuna's eyes flashed. "Know your history, man! This isn't some toy! Except for the war, every single major incident in the last twenty years has been resolved by some brat owning and aided by a next-generation Pokedex! This one is completely unknown to me! I want the brat that comes with this before me before we leave! Preferably dead!"

"Y-yes, madam!"

* * *

"I'm impressed, Professor," said Karbon as footsteps hastily approached. "You weren't effected at all."

"I'm moreso," said Professor Yew. "It's been only four years since you took that man's offer. You've grown much, dear. But, perhaps, a bit slanted?"

"Perhaps," said Karbon noncommittally. The footsteps suddenly halted, and screaming erupted outside of the door.

A ghostly apparition materialized around the gem floating next to Karbon's head, laughing silently to itself.

"Good job, girl." He paused mid-stride. "...how long did you know, Professor? About the Rocket presence abroad this ship?"

"Mm? What makes you say that?"

"You and that man. Always with your damn tests," muttered Karbon. "Fine. Let's see... how many, Phoebe?" A low, hissing voice passed his ears as he closed his eyes. "Right, and you saw the leader? She has my – dammit. Hm. Alright, here's what I want you to do..."

* * *

"Five men and women, three Voltorbs, and the authorities are hailing us."

Shizuna muttered invectives as she paced the deck. "I am _not_ falling prey to some kid commando. Do you at least know what they were hit with?"

"Confuse Ray," reported the grunt. "They will be out of commission for a while. Security footages didn't catch anything."

"So likely a Psychic or Ghost type," muttered Shizuna. "It'll take too long to access the ship manifest and compare them to our captured stock. No matter. We're pulling out – we don't have enough manpower to handle Cinnabar's-"

More screaming. A thunderous din below their feet.

"Oh, what the hell is it _now?_"

A brilliant beam of white-hot fire erupted out the sides of the ship. Shizuna was temporarily deafened as the Hyper Beam lanced its way through thick hull plating, and an Aerodactyl flew screaming out.

"It got loose!" yammered somebody on the radio. "We have a saboteur! I repeat-"

"Get everybody on deck!" screamed Shizuna into her handset. "We're leaving! Hurry and..." The rocky form of the revived aerial hunter had banked, and turned back towards them.

On its back was a screaming, flaming monkey.

"Oh, shi-"

* * *

The ship lurched.

Beatrice flinched, and stirred awake. "What... what happened..." She blinked, and sat upright. "Oh, hell! Suijin! Su-" She sighed in relief as the chirping blue head of her Pokemon bumped clumsily into her. "Oh, thank goodness – wait. You're back? What happened?" It was then she noticed that the galley in general was now even more packed than it was before. A menagerie of released Pokemon of all shapes and sizes were amongst them now, reunited with their trainers and owners. "Did... did Kay do all this?"

"Didn't do anything," said Karbon behind her, slumped and weary against the wall. "The Cinnabar coast guard's here now. Team Rocket got chased off. I asked them to fetch your Piplup."

"Modesty, Kay?" laughed Bea's mother. "It was your Misdreavus that snuck in and released those Pokemon. The chaos kept the Rockets from organizing properly before the authorities got here. A third of them are now arrested."

"Yeah, don't tell anybody that," muttered Karbon. "Last thing I need is to be held up for a day in questioning."

"Yes, yes. We mustn't be late for the conference." She took the necklace out of Karbon's hands and tied it back on. "There. Now our little security measure's restored. You lucked out! That was probably more practice and experience than you could've expected on the road."

Karbon shrugged. "Lost the Pokedex, though. That man's going to bitch at me for that."

"Oh, don't worry. You can borrow Bea's."

"Buwha?" said two voices at once.

Dahlia smiled as she pulled a slim, obsidian-black and smooth slate out from the front of her blouse. "Happy early birthday, dear. The project lead wanted you to have this."

"Mom! This is great! The new model!" gushed Bea as she eagerly prodded it to life, hands flickering familiarly over the icons displayed.

"Wait, what was this about 'borrowing?'" protested Karbon.

"Why, you're both on your trainer journey this year, right?" said Dahlia innocently. "Karbon, can't you supervise my daughter? I'd feel a lot safer if somebody went with her-"

"I refuse."

"Especially after this incident," continued the professor, as if she didn't hear him. "Plus, I know you're on a strict budget until you win your first gym match, so I wouldn't want you to get bankrupted for the cost of a second model."

"I still refuse."

"It's alright with you, right, Bea?"

"I, ah... I was kind of hoping to do it solo..." said Beatrice slowly. "But given what just happened, I don't think I can fairly demand that, huh?"

"I'm glad you're so understanding, dear," said Dahlia, smiling warmly. "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on anyhow! It's been over four years since you two played at the hospital."

"I wasn't playing!" protested Karbon. "And I said I refused!"

* * *

Time had passed. The police had asked around. The port authority was packed.

"Purpose?" asked the bored-looking immigration agent.

"Trainer journey," said Karbon, fighting back impatience.

"Your partner?"

"...what?"

"Due to recent incidents of organized crime activity in the Kanto area, there is now an emergency measure in place requiring that trainers on their licensing journey be partnered up for their own safety," intoned the desk-warmer. "If you do not have a partner, please move onto aisle four for reprocessing-"

"That won't be necessary," said Dahlia as she came up from behind Karbon, smiling faintly. "He's registered with my daughter. Here's her trainer ID."

She beamed at Karbon.

He groaned.


End file.
